


Red Ribbon

by Songbird321



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cat Burglar!Marco, Cat and Mouse Dynamics, Detective!Jean, Jean is frustrated and Marco loves messing with him, M/M, Minor Swearing, Other characters involved but just kinda, enemies to lovers?, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21923317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songbird321/pseuds/Songbird321
Summary: The stranger grimaced, nose likely wrinkling under his mask. “You make it sound like such a dirty word.”“What, thief? It’s not exactly a clean profession.”“I’d beg to differ. The best thief is often one of the cleanest people you’ll meet. Wanna know why?”Jean cocked an eyebrow, arms crossing over his chest. “Enlighten me.”The man grinned, holding up gloved hands. “No fingerprints.”
Relationships: Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40
Collections: JeanMarco Gift Exchange 2019





	Red Ribbon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZoeBug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeBug/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, Zoe! I was your JeanMarco Gift Exchange secret santa, and I hope you enjoy this story based off of your detective/thief prompt. I know nothing about how detectives/police officers work in real life, only going off of TV, so I apologize for the realistic inaccuracies this is probably full of, but I think it still works as a romantic comedy! Also, sorry it's a bit long. The idea kept going, and I couldn't stop it. Enjoy!

**October 1st, 8:34am**

Perhaps the most useful skill Jean Kirschtein had learned since he’d been taken on as a detective at the Trost Police Department had been how to disappear. The officers had to take center stage, examining evidence and questioning witnesses and keeping curious spectators at bay. But a detective could slip by unnoticed if they chose to, either jumping in head first with task force or standing in the shadows, silently absorbing information they’d use later to crack the case. 

So when half a room of jewels had gone missing from the Harlow Gallery, Jean had used his practiced invisibility to gather clues without attracting attention as his colleagues searched the scene amidst the flashing of cameras and reporters’ rapid-fire questions, (which were ten times worse since they’d only been let in ten minutes ago, much to the chagrin of the team.) 

“Chief of Police Smith, how many jewels were stolen last night?”

“What is the expected value of the pieces stolen? How much will this cost the gallery?”

“Do you think this was the work of a single burglar or a team of thieves, sir?” 

“Do you suspect foul play? Could this be the start of something bigger?”

Jean’s gaze moved from the press to the empty glasses cases as his boss silenced the torrent of questions with a soft smile and a raise of his hand. 

“It is still too early to determine the nature of this crime, or it’s culprits,” Chief of Police Erwin Smith answered, voice carrying through the now quiet room. He had that effect on people. Camera clicks were the only other sounds still echoing around the vaulted ceiling. “We received the call at 7:30 this morning, and have been here since a little before 8:00am. I have brought in a team of trained professionals to analyze the scene, and once we have examined the evidence, we will share a full report of the investigation. The city can rest easy; know that we will do all in power to seek justice for the Harlow family and protect our business owners and citizens to whatever extent is necessary.” 

The reporters began to buzz with questions again, but Jean tuned them out. Chief Smith had spoken honestly to those reporters, something he always did. And he certainly hadn’t been wrong about the trained professionals he’d put on this case. Jean considered himself the most trained professional he’d met in his life.

Shoes clicking on the marble floor, Jean moved away from the crowd towards one of the empty cases. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary about it except for its lack of jewels. The plaque next to the case said it was supposed to display a pearl necklace recovered from the belongings of some obscure English princess. Slipping on a pair of silk gloves from his pocket, Jean tapped the glass. It felt sturdy, thick. Almost impossible to break. But Jean had figured that out already, judging by the lack of broken glass throughout the gallery. The thief had other means of getting their job done than the classic cartoon version of smashing everything to pieces. 

Peering closer to the case, Jean tried to find any other irregularities. His gloved fingers felt around the edges of the glass, the top and bottom of the case, everything he could reach. Nothing seemed out of place, and no traces of fingerprints appeared either. Jean tapped his foot, the cogs in his brain turning at double speed. 

This was no ordinary jewel thief, that was for sure. 

Jean made his way around the other three empty cases before anyone took notice of him. A middle-aged man, wearing a badge from the local news station, approached him as if Jean were the most important person in the world. He had that hungry look in his eye that journalists sometimes got when they thought they’d discovered an untapped gold mine. Jean found a sweet sense of satisfaction in stumping these types of people, which wouldn’t be too difficult now considering he’d only had maybe thirty minutes of investigating. That wasn’t nearly enough time to crack a case, even for someone like him. 

“Detective Kirschtein, yes?” the man asked, recorder in hand. “You’re the man who found the robber behind the break-ins in Orange Grove early this year, right?”

“That would be me,” Jean replied, making as little eye contact as possible as he made a show of investigating an empty case he’d already looked at for five minutes. 

“What are your thoughts on this case so far? Do you have any hints as to who the culprit might be?”

“It’s still far too early to tell,” Jean answered honestly. And shortly, hoping that would get the guy to back off. 

The man’s smile faltered a bit, but not enough for Jean’s liking. _Frustrating._ “So you have no leads yet on who stole all of these priceless jewels?”

“Not yet. Come back to me in a few days, and maybe I’ll have something.”

“What will you do if the thief strikes again in that time?” 

“What we always do: use the information to track them down and bring them to justice. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.” 

And with that, Jean pulled a black moleskin notebook from his jacket pocket and made a show of taking notes as he walked away from the journalist. 

**October 4th, 10:46am**  
The journalist had been right about the thief’s reappearance. Three nights later, a jewelry store was robbed. But the only item missing was a necklace from a decorative display, a piece from an ancient Egyptian queen meant for publicity. And, just like Harlow Gallery, everything was still in perfect working order, except for the security cameras from 10pm to 5am, (which really wasn’t much help at all, cause there was no way the thief could take that long to nab their prize, so the length was likely intentional so the cops couldn’t pinpoint their timing. Jean had to given them props for that.)

Because of the repeat offense, Chief Smith had assigned an investigative team to follow the case. He’d put Lieutenant Zacharius in charge of the team, with Jean as his second in command. Jean’s buddy, Officer Connie Springer, had been put on the case too, along with his fellow officers, Historia Reiss and Eren Jaeger. Jean was always happy to work with Connie; even though he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the bunch, Connie had a good heart, and knew when to act in the field. Jean’s intelligence balanced him well, and they’d always made a stellar team. Historia was incredible capable, and Jean enjoyed working with her for her no-nonsense attitude and deceiving appearance. It was always a treat to watch Historia take down huge, bulky dudes who underestimated her because of her petite frame. It was not a treat, however, to have to work with Eren Jaeger. He and Jean had butted heads from the moment they’d met. And even just hearing Eren tap his pen against the desk sent Jean’s mood into a downward spiral. 

But he thankfully hadn’t seen much of Eren at HQ that day, and the brunette was working quietly as his cubicle next to Jean for the moment. The detective had been to the crime scene earlier that day, and was pouring over the notes in his moleskin and the pictures he’d taken on his work phone. There were always ways to ensure that no fingerprints were left behind, but it was puzzling him how the thief was moving such heavy glass with no trace. Sure, the case at the store wasn’t the highest quality, but the ones at the gallery were top of the line, bullet proof material. That wasn’t something someone could move on their own. At least not easily. But the possibility of more than one thief wasn’t sitting right. Jean’s gut was telling him this was a one man job. And his gut was rarely wrong. 

“They’re calling the thief the Ace of Spades.” Jean started as Historia dropped a set of papers on his desk, printouts from an op-ed site. A picture of the empty case where the store’s necklace was supposed to be was sandwiched between the title “Priceless Necklace Pulls a Disappearing Act“ and the caption “An empty case where Queen Nerfertari’s emerald pendant sat before they were stolen late last night.” 

“Why?” Eren asked, leaning over the desk to peek at the article. 

“I think they’re trying to compare it to a well-done card trick,” Historia replied. “Cause this thief left no trace at all, as if they used magic.”

“Just like at Harlow’s,” Connie added, rifling through some of the papers Jean wasn’t looking at. “There’s no way this isn’t the same thief. That’s for sure now.”

“Yeah, which means we need an MO on them stat if we have any chance of catching them before another heist,” Historia replied. “ _If_ we can stop them by then. Chances are we’ll need the next one to gather more intel, and then we can start trying to track him down.”

“Any hints yet, Sherlock?” Connie asked with a cheeky grin at Jean. The smile didn’t ease up even after Jean glared at him. 

“Not quite,” Jean admitted. “What we’ve seen so far is really unusual. I’m gonna need a bit more time with the data.”

“Well we don’t exactly have too much time,” Eren said, leaning back in his desk chair, arms crossed over his chest. “There were what, three days between the heists? Chances are we’ll get three more before another strike.”

“ _If_ they stick to the pattern at all,” Historia added. She was biting her lower lip, a tell for when her mind was turning in high gear. 

“Right.” Jean pointed to a map of the city he’d taped to the wall. Red circles marked the scenes of both robberies. “There’s no major links between these events yet.” Jean tapped his pen on Harlow Gallery. “One was a fancy art gallery and the other a chain jewelry store.” The pen tapped the store. “They’re nowhere near each other in town. And this Ace of Spades stole four items from Harlow and only one from the store. The only commonality is the security camera lapses and the lack of any physical evidence.” 

“So what you’re saying is you can’t do your job,” Eren supplied in what was supposed to be a joke. Jean did not accept jokes from Eren. Jean did not like Eren. 

But before he could hurl a biting insult back, Connie stepped in. “Do you think three days will be enough time to make something from this?” he asked, meeting Jean’s eyes. There was genuine interest there, and a belief in Jean’s abilities that took the detective by surprise. 

“We’ll hope,” Jean answered, holding up the notebook. “We’ll hope.”

**October 7th, 9:00am**

Three days were not enough. No matter how many times Jean poured over his notes, no matter how many angles he took, he couldn’t find a link. The evidence was giving him nothing. 

But the third heist gave him his biggest clue yet. 

A tiara had been stolen from the Art Museum the night before. The scene looked the same as the first two: no damage to anything and the security camera footage was blank from 10pm to 5am. But this time, only the cameras in the thief’s path had been disabled, so the team could tell where the thief had entered and exited, which had started in a back storage room, then through the hall of taxidermied animals, and finally through the mineral room before reaching the hall of gems. That was more to work with than they’d had before. 

And as the team scoured the room for clues, Jean explored the storage room and the alley beyond it. The museum was set in the middle of the city, and shared this alley with the back of the library, another large, beautiful building with plenty of windows and secret nooks to plan a heist in. It would be easy for someone to hideout in the library until the right time to sneak into the museum. And they likely hadn’t thought to disable any cameras the library might have, (Jean wasn’t sure if the library had use for security footage, but it was worth a shot to ask.) Regardless, checking records of who’d been in that building last night could be crucial to their case. 

Jean would also have to check with the museum staff to see who’d lost their key card, as one was required to open the door to the storage room the thief had used. Unless they’d planned way in advance to hack into the system, the Ace of Spades had to have stolen a card to get in. And access to someone with such a card could limit their search a lot. 

Breathing in a fresh autumn air, Jean pulled out his phone to take pictures of the alley. He propped open the storage room door with a bucket and snapped a photo of it. He took a close up of the ID card scanner. He snapped some pictures of the alley entrance, and then the dead end. Finally, Jean turned to the library, snapping pictures all the way up the building. 

And he wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light or a sign from God, but Jean could’ve sworn he saw movement in one of the second story windows, as if someone had been watching him. He checked back through the photos, but it seemed that the person had alluded being photographed. Jean looked back up, silently praying for the person to return. 

Cause his gut was telling him the person in the window had been the Ace of Spades, watching the chaos unfold behind them. 

And Jean’s gut was rarely wrong. 

**October 9th, 12:18pm**

“Hey, garage band, quit the tapping.” Jean jumped as a hand clamped over his own, which happened to be absently tapping a pen against his desk as he watched a news cast on his laptop. The detective looked up to find Historia staring down at him, eyes shining with a mix of annoyance and playfulness. 

“Sorry,” Jean responded simply. “I’m just absorbed in this case.”

Historia pulled her fingers away from his. “I’m not mad. It’s just driving me up a wall.” 

He placed the pen down on his desk, a little too far from his fingers to absently reach for it. “It’ll stop.” 

“Thank you.” Historia settled back against Jean’s desk, arms crossing casually across her chest as her eyes roamed to his computer screen. “What’re you reading about?”

“The jewelry heists,” Jean replied, turning back to his screen. He grabbed the mouse and began to point out details in the article as he spoke. “I wanted to see what details were released. Compare them to what we found to see if I can make any sense of it.”

“And have you made any sense of it?” Historia asked. 

“A bit, but not enough.” Jean sighed, shoulders depressing with the weight of that truth. “I think I almost caught them the other day at the museum. When you were all upstairs I was in the back alley and… someone was watching me. From the library. It had to be them. But no one’s taking the library info seriously.”

Historia winced. “Yeah, they put Daz on that…”

“That’s what I mean. How am I supposed to follow this lead if I’m not getting my info on time?”

Historia clapped his shoulder, giving it a tiny, reassuring squeeze. “You’ll put the pieces together. You always do, Kirschtein.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Historia patted his shoulder one last time and began to walk back to her desk when she paused. “Hey, you didn’t circle the museum on your map.” Jean looked up as she grabbed his red marker and moved to draw the circle herself. As the circle came together, a light bulb went off in Jean’s head. 

“Historia! That’s it!”

The woman jumped. “What’s what?” Connie yelled something behind her, but Jean was already on his feet, meeting Historia by the map. 

He pointed frantically towards the poster. “What does that look like?” Historia looked to the map with wide eyes, clearly flustered by Jean’s sudden outburst. “The circles. What do they form?” He pointed to each one in turn, heart beating a mile a minute. 

As Connie and Eren gathered behind them, Historia’s blue eyes lit up. “A clock!” she cried, meeting Jean’s triumphant eyes. “The Ace is hitting targets on a clock!” 

“Wait, what?” Eren asked, stepping closer and squinting at the map. 

“They’ve already hit twelve, three, and six,” Historia said, using the marker to point to each of the locations. “So that means the next target…”

“Is nine,” Jean finished, placing his finger at the spot on the map. “Connie, Eren, can you start running searches for any place that the Ace might hit in this area? Jewelry stores, art galleries, museums, pawn shops, et cetera. Historia, go tell Lieutenant Zacharius that we’ve got something. I’m going to reassess some of the clues we have to see if the clock means anything.”

And as the team scattered like ants to complete their tasks, Jean felt hope begin to bubble in his chest. This case had been weighing him down since the second heist. Finally, pieces were starting to fall into place. Finally, Jean felt useful. And he knew exactly what he could do to help prevent the fourth heist. 

**October 10th, 1:30am**

Three Walls was known to be one of the most beautiful art galleries in the area. The sprawling gardens, original brick exterior, and modern interior delighted all of its visitors, providing something for everyone to enjoy as they browsed through art on display from all cultures and mediums. Yet for all its beauty in the daytime, the gallery was hauntingly beautiful at night. 

At 1:30am, Jean was pacing back and forth in the jewel wing of Three Walls, focusing on the sound of his footsteps to keep himself calm. Eren and Connie’s research had led to the gallery as the prime target in the area, as it was the most famous place that housed jewels and conveniently sat right on the nine spot on the map. Jean had volunteered to be the one to stake the place out. Having a whole team was too risky; if someone messed up and gave away their position, the thief might realize they were there and bail to avoid capture. One person on stake out was less likely to get caught ahead of time. 

So Jean had been there since the gallery closed at 8, waiting patiently for the Ace to arrive. Or he’d been patient until about 11:30, when the shadows started to play tricks on his eyes and every sound or movement became a ghost ready to suck his soul or a thief with a knife aimed for his throat. But it had been a false alarm every time, and Jean had taken to pacing. The sound of his footsteps was calming, and the movement gave him something to focus on besides the nerves of potentially running into a criminal. A criminal they knew little to nothing about. The Ace of Spades could be a violent masochist or a clever pacifist, a cynical con or a desperate kid. The only glimpse anyone had had of the thief were the fluttering curtains Jean saw in the library window. 

And curtains weren’t the most telling detail about a person...

“Well, well, well, isn’t this a surprise?”

Jean whirled around and nearly collided with a shadow standing right behind him. As he stumbled backwards, Jean realized it wasn’t a shadow at all but a flesh and blood person, dressed in all black, with only chin, mouth, and eyes showing. They’d snuck up so silently, Jean hadn’t heard a thing, which had his heart racing. And the sideways grin on the lips of the shadow didn’t help the fear choking him. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you there.” The man, (evident by his voice,) drew himself to his full height, holding his hands up in a calming gesture. He held his head at an angle, too precise to be natural, yet too comfortable to be calculated. Watching Jean, assessing him like a cat on the hunt. “But it’s been a while since I’ve seen a guard during my rounds. Or any person for that matter.” 

“I’m not a guard,” Jean responded, flinching internally for the slight whine in his voice. 

The stranger’s smirk twisted up at the corners. “Well you certainly aren’t dressed like one. If I had to guess,” He took a step to the left and Jean flinched, “I’d say you were some sort of detective, called in to try to catch me.” He tapped a finger against his lips cheekily. The fear in Jean’s stomach began to tie his insides in knots. He wished the stranger would stop staring. “Am I wrong?”

“How did you…?” 

“Lucky guess.” He shrugged nonchalantly, arms crossing loosely over his chest. “I also saw you outside the museum the other day.” 

“I knew it!” Jean cried. He flushed at the childishness of his sudden enthusiasm, mostly because the stranger seemed amused by it. “At the library. That’s how you got into the museum.” 

The calming hands were back, taunting Jean to step back from his investigation. “A magician never reveals his secrets.” 

Jean frowned. “Is that what you consider yourself? A magician?” 

“Of course. It has a more mysterious ring to it, doesn’t it?” The stranger began to walk around Jean’s shoulder. The detective followed him with his gaze. “And the people love a mysterious spectacle. Would’ve thought you’d know that, Mr. Detective.” 

“Don’t patronize me, thief,” Jean replied, tracking the man as he circled around him. 

The stranger grimaced, nose likely wrinkling under his mask. “You make it sound like such a dirty word.”

“What, _thief_? It’s not exactly a clean profession.” 

“I’d beg to differ. The best thief is often one of the cleanest people you’ll meet. Wanna know why?”

Jean cocked an eyebrow, arms crossing over his chest. “Enlighten me.”

The man grinned, holding up gloved hands. “No fingerprints.” 

“Cheap shot.” Jean snorted. The stranger shrugged, folding his arms behind his back as he continued his pacing, starting a second circle around Jean. “What’s your plan here, thief?”

“Oh please, sir, let’s drop the formalities. You can call me Ace.” The stranger paused his pacing, extending a hand towards Jean. The detective glanced at the gloved fingers, then up at the dark brown eyes watching him from behind the mask, and chose to keep his hands tucked firmly over his chest. 

“Was that name your invention, then?” Jean asked, confidence steadily growing stronger. The pacing was making him sweat a bit, but staring at the guy one-on-one was a little easier to handle. “To keep up the _spectacle?_ ” 

The Act dropped his hand, smile never faltering. “Of course not. You run the risk of being tacky when you name yourself. A true criminal allows the media to make a name for them. Then you can let them think you’re playing the game by their rules, when really you have them in the palm of your hand the whole time.” 

“You consider yourself a ‘true criminal,’ then?” Jean asked. The Ace shrugged before he resumed his circle. 

“I haven’t been caught yet,” he said with a wink that made Jean’s stomach flip. He hated winking. Winking meant secrets, and if it wasn’t something he was in on, that couldn’t be good news for him. If Jean’s senses hadn’t been on high alert before, they were now. “So, what’s your plan, Detective?” the Ace repeated, eyeing the shadows at the edge of the room. “Got any buddies around waiting for a signal to leap out and arrest me?”

“And what if I do?”

The cat-like grin that earned him was blood chilling. “You wouldn’t have asked that question if you did.” A pit fell in Jean’s stomach. How had he given himself away? “Besides, it’s too early for them to assume you’re hunch is correct. They wouldn’t have sent you in with a team. They also don’t know if I’m dangerous yet.”

Jean’s spine tingled. “And is that something you’d consider yourself? Dangerous?” 

The smile on the Ace’s face reached his eyes, making them sparkle with a wicked shine that would haunt Jean’s dreams for months. “I’ll let you figure that one out.” 

And before Jean could move, the Ace spring forward, and everything went black. 

**October 10th, 4:13am**

Jean woke up to someone tapping his cheek. He groaned as he pulled his eyelids open. Lieutenant Zacharius’ face filled his line of sight, Connie looming behind him. Jean squinted at the brightness of the light behind them. He couldn’t tell if it was daylight, a flashlight, or heaven. 

“Detective Kirschtein?” Zacharius asked, moving to squeeze his shoulder now that he’d seen a sign of life. “Son, can you hear me?” 

“Umm hmm,” Jean mumbled, shifting uncomfortably. His limbs felt stiff. The surface beneath him felt unusually hard. He tried to look around, but found it terribly uncomfortable to move his head. 

“Good. Paramedics are on their way to check you out.” Lieutenant Mike Zacharius was a serious man, but the worry in his voice betrayed his stoic expression. “What happened last night?” 

“How did you… get here?” 

The lieutenant nodded. “You missed your check in at 1:30am. Then at 2am. Then 2:30. And so on. So we assumed the worst and drove over here to find you passed out in a heap on the floor. Can you remember anything that happened?” 

“I uh…. I passed out?” It was more a question than an answer. 

Mike nodded. “Yes. And you have a nasty bruise on your collarbone, which I can guess means someone hit a pressure point hard enough to knock you out. You wouldn’t have had the strength to leave a mark like that on yourself.” 

Jean licked his lips as he fought through the haze in his mind to remember. “I… I was alone for most of the night. Nothing out of the ordinary. But then…” His eyes widened as the memories came back. “The Ace of Spades showed up! He was here! He… we talked for a minute or two before… he must’ve hit me, cause it all went black and…” 

“And he got away,” Mike finished, not unkindly. Jean closed his eyes, letting his head fall back. He’d failed them. “We shouldn’t have sent you in alone.” 

“But we know it’s a he,” Connie supplied. 

“Yes. At least we got that,” Mike added. His gaze returned to Jean. “And you’re okay.” 

“Right,” Jean sighed. “He got away, but we learned something.” 

**October 11th, 1:53pm**

“He got away, and I learned nothing!” Jean exclaimed, crumpling up his notes and throwing them towards the trash can. “Don’t know how he got in, or how he disabled the cameras, or how he got the jewels. Nothing.” He groaned as he settled forward, elbows on the desk and face smashed into his hands. 

Connie clicked his tongue. “Jean, he caught you off guard and knocked you out…” 

“And he got away with it.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this.” Connie wheeled from his desk to Jean’s on his chair, sliding up right in front of Jean, so close their knees were almost touching. “We’ve all made mistakes before. We either overestimate or underestimate our perp’s behavior all the time. How could you have known the guy would pressure point you? You didn’t.” Jean frowned, looking away to avoid admitting Connie was right. “All that matters is that he didn’t kill ya. You made it out of there without any major injuries. So what if he made off with a few more jewels? We still got you, buddy.”

Jean shook his head, fighting a smile. “Connie, that’s sweet and all, but this is reality, not a mushy cop film.” The other man huffed impatiently, gearing up to fight back again. Jean tried to beat him to it, saying a little louder to drown his friend out: “I get that my life matters to you, but that’s not the kind of threat this guy poses to us, so…”

“Hey.” Both men turned at Historia’s voice, going perfectly quiet at the sight of the package she carried. 

“What’cha got there?” Jean asked, eyes moving back and forth between Historia and the red rose. 

“Is that from a new secret admirer?” Connie asked in feigned shock. “Do we get to intimidate an intern again? Or call Ymir to intimidate an intern again?!”

“No, you moron,” Historia replied, grinning a bit at that memory. “This isn’t mine. It’s actually for Jean.” 

Connis’s head spun to Jean so fast, it could’ve fallen off. Eren’s head popped up from over the cubicle wall with a squaked “What?!”

“Me?” Jean asked, pointing towards himself. Historia nodded, holding the flower out towards him. The detective didn’t take it, instead staring at the plant like it was a time bomb. “Who sent it?”

“No idea. Mail guy just dropped it off a minute ago. I figured it’d be rude to read the card.” Historia gave the flower a small shake, prompting Jean to take it. He reached for it, the stem feeling fragile in his hand. A small calling card was attached to the rose with a shiny silver ribbon, containing a message written in loopy script: 

_To my dear Mr. Detective,_  
I’m sorry I had to cut our rendezvous short, and sincerely hope you weren’t too injured from your fall. It would be a shame if our game had to end so soon. May we meet again soon…  
AoS 

“Sooooo… who’s it from?” Connie cooed, exaggeratedly propping his chin in his hands. Eren had come around to Jean and Connie’s area to investigate too. 

“The Ace of Spades,” Jean answered, reread the message for the third time. He didn’t know if it made him feel humiliated, terrified, or flattered. 

“Really?” Historia was suddenly at his side, reading the message over his shoulder. Eren appeared at his other shoulder as Connie leaned forward to read the message upside down. “That’s a bold move.” 

“Fancy too.” Connie whistled. “You know how much roses cost these days?” 

“No?”

“A lot.” 

“You get them for Sasha?”

Connie shook his head. “She’s not a fan of roses. I usually get her sunflowers or lilies. Those are her favorites… But that’s beside the point. This is a solid piece of evidence on our suspect… and he sent it right into our hands!” 

“Which means it could be a trap,” Jean said even as his stomach fluttered with hope that this could be the missing link they needed to nail this guy. “The Ace is very fond of games. That’s something else I learned last night.” 

“Well, there’s no harm in doing some handwriting analysis and mail trailing,” Historia replied. “Maybe he messed up. And if it is a trap, then we learn more about the types of games he likes to play.”

“And regardless, we have learned one other thing from this note,” Eren added. Three pairs of eyes turned to him. Eren smiled. “The Ace of Spades is sweet on Jean.”

**October 12th, 11:34pm**

As the clock turned to 11:34pm, Jean sat in his cubicle, staring at his map. The Ace was scheduled to strike again tonight, but this night marked the potential start of a new pattern. He’d covered the cardinal directions on the clock; would he keep going one place to the right, or start something entirely new? No one was sure, and that had left the entire team on edge. Eren, Connie, and Historia had all gone on stake-outs to potential targets, as had Lieutenant Zacharius and a few other officers. The only other people left at HQ with Jean were their secretary, (out in the front of the building,) and Chief Smith (up in his office, door closed but light on.)

Jean bit his lip as he considered the map. He was reeling back through everything they’d learned about the Ace, trying to guess his next move. The fact that he’d met the thief and still knew nothing about his identity worried Jean. Usually, an encounter would be enough to lead him to an occupation, a name, anything. But this guy, this Ace, gave nothing away. All Jean could remember was the sparkle of his eyes and the purr in his voice. Which made him feel simultaneously humiliated and excited. 

Jean shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking of the Ace… like that. The whole idea of thinking of a criminal he was trying to catch “like that,” whatever _that_ meant, made his stomach turn. Which didn’t help his nerves and confusion at all. Jean groaned, hitting his head against the map. He needed his brain to shut up and think straight for once. Well, not _that_ kind of straight… “Fuck!” he whispered, banging a fist against the wall. 

A tapping sound from the window made Jean’s heart skip a beat. He whirled around, back pressed to the wall. Standing in front of the glass, finger poised to tap against it a second time, was the Ace of Spades. Dressed in all black again and sporting the same concealing mask, the thief’s jaunty posture and coy smile had Jean’s head spinning. Or maybe that was the terror of a known criminal sneaking into police headquarters complete unnoticed. 

“Hello again,” the Ace crooned. 

Jean didn’t move. “What are you doing here?”

“Paying you a visit.” 

“This is police headquarters.”

“Yes, I am aware…”

“I could arrest you right now.”

The Ace shrugged. “You could. At any moment I could be apprehended for my crimes and thrown in jail for years. That’s a chance I’m willing to take.” His voice lowered a notch as his eyes bored into Jean’s. “I’m feeling rather lucky tonight.”

Jean’s stomach dropped. He swallowed hard. His eyes flicked to Chief Smith’s door. It was still closed, the light still on. “My chief is right up there.”

“Oooh, doubling up the risk factor. I like it,” the Ace purred. Jean frowned. 

“I can’t tell if you’re messing with more, or if you’re really just a sadist.”

“That’s all part of the fun, my dear. Keeping you on your toes.”

Jean crossed his arms over his chest to appear more confident. The shock of the Ace sneaking up on him had thrown him a bit, but, just like last time, he was starting to grow a bit more brave as the conversation went on. “Why do you like messing with me so much?”

The Ace shrugged. “Your whole job is to figure me out, right? I’m giving you something to work with. Most criminals you probably crack in a few days; you’re an intelligent detective, I’m sure. Isn’t it fun to have a challenge for once?”

Jean ignored his question. “But why _me_?”

“I didn’t get to pick the detective they put on my case, but once I saw how handsome you were…” The Ace clicked his tongue with a shake of his head. When his eyes returned to Jean, they were accompanied by the most charming half smile he’d ever seen. “I figured I’d be a game we’d both enjoy playing.” A blush bloomed on Jean’s face against his better judgement. The Ace’s smile deepened. Jean felt like a mouse caught in a corner, about to get absolutely demolished by a cat. 

“You should leave now before the chief comes out,” Jean mumbled, conceding defeat. 

The smile fell. “You want me to go already? We’ve hardly had the time to talk.”

“I…” Jean closed his eyes, mustered some courage. He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Why are you even here? Aren’t you due to be burgling another gallery tonight?”

“Yeah, but it gets kinda lonely, burgling.” The Ace pouted, picking at his gloved fingers to feign disinterest. 

“Maybe you should give it up, then,” Jean replied quickly, quicker than he’d expected. The Ace’s eyes jumped to meet his, surprised, but also a bit proud at the turn of events. The simple gesture made Jean’s chest tighten. His instinct to let the Ace leave freely was threatening to spill over his rational instinct to find a way to turn him in. It would be so easy… but...

The Ace’s pout turned sideways as he hummed. “Nah. I can’t give up yet. Then our game would end.” His sparkling eyes met Jean’s. Another challenge. “I like playing with you.” Jean felt his face go even redder than before, and it got worse when the thief’s pout morphed back into a sly smile. “You do too, don’t you?” Jean opened his mouth to reply, but the words wouldn’t come. He stuttered a syllable or two before his gaze flicked back to Chief Smith’s door. “It’s okay. You can say it. Daddy’s door is still closed; he doesn’t have to know.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” Jean hissed, turning fully to Smith’s office to make sure his chief hadn’t heard anything. His entire body felt like it was on fire, and made of springs wound uncomfortably tight. He leaned forward, voice an ominous whisper. “You’ve been pushing your luck…”

“And you’ve been breaking your rules…”

“And you have ten seconds to give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call my chief in here right now and arrest you.”

“I’ll give you three reasons.” Three delicate fingers raised in front of Jean’s nose. “One, I can disappear before he gets here. Two, you wouldn’t see me again. And three, you wouldn’t have given me so many seconds if you actually wanted me locked up.” 

Jean’s lips pressed together tightly, eyes burning fire at the other man. Cause in his heart, Jean knew the Ace was right. He _did_ find some sort of terrible pleasure in trying to unravel this man. And he wasn’t quite ready to never see him again…

“Leave. Right now,” he ground between his teeth. “The chief usually leaves by midnight.”

“So you’re not gonna tell on me?” the Ace challenged sweetly, cocking his head to the side again. 

“If it gets you away from me, and out of trouble, then no.”

“How sweet.”

“Leave.”

“I’m going, I’m going. And I can promise to stay out of trouble for the evening… if you promise me one thing.” 

Jean’s brow furrowed. “What?”

The Ace smiled, this time more sincere than Jean had ever seen. “You’ll be the one to catch me when the time comes.” 

Jean blinked. “I… I can try.”

“Good.” The Ace nodded. Then he started away towards the back hall. “I don’t trust anyone else to do it. You and are special. We’re tied by a red ribbon, honey.” The Ace looked back at him over his shoulder, crossed two fingers. “You and me. Till death do us part.”

Jean watched him go, his last words echoing around him when he was alone again. Suddenly, being alone felt wrong somehow. 

**October 19th, 8:30am**

The scene was just like all the others. Jewels missing. Case intact. Windows secure. No fingerprints, camera footage, or traces of anything out of the ordinary. 

“Damn,” Jean swore under his breath as he inspected one of the museum’s windows. After his last encounter with the Ace, the thief had gone quiet for a week. Jean had gone to other galleries, stores, and museums for surveillance for the first three days, but nothing had happened. Sure, he’d gotten lucky the first time, but there were only so many places the Ace could target. There was no way to know what patterned he’d follow now. But he was bound to show up eventually, Jean was certain of that after his final promise. Yet when he didn’t, Jean began to grow frustrated, then angry, then worried. Silence, as annoying as it was, never boded well with criminals. 

So it shouldn’t have surprised him that the Ace had made a grand return by making off with a sapphire egg the size of a dinner plate from the three story Riverside Art Gallery. But it did. 

“Shit, how strong is this guy?” Eren asked as Jean rejoined him and Historia by the empty jewel case. “That egg had to have weighed a good twenty pounds.”

“How would you know?” Historia said, eyebrows furrowing. 

Eren shrugged. “Just a guess. Still, it had to’ve been heavy. There’s no way one person pulled this off.”

“There is. He works alone,” Jean added, scowling as the memory of that cheeky cat-like grin crossed his mind, as if the Ace were laughing at him right now. 

“Are you sure?” Eren asked, peeking at Jean with uncertain eyes. “Cause having a partner would help a lot of these stunts he’s pulled make sense.”

Jean met his gaze with a hard stare, challenging the officer to test him again. “I’ve met him, Jaeger. I think I know his methods better than you.”

“You’ve met him once,” Eren scoffed. “And that time was only what? Five minutes?” Jean turned fully towards the officer, fire in his eyes as the face of the Ace kept laughing in his head. 

Historia stepped between them. “Guys…”

“He left something!” Connie cried, holding a hand up as he stooped down to retrieve the criminal’s trace. Jean, Eren, and Historia all turned at once, walked over as a trio, each walking a bit faster to be the first one there. Historia arrived first, peeking over Connie’s left shoulder as Jean and Eren crowded over the right. “Uhhh, Jean, I think this is for you again.”

Connie held out a business card for Jean to take. Upon further inspection, it was a card for a place called Maria’s Marvelous Flower Shoppe. Written in the space for a personal message, the thief had written ‘To the sweet detective who’s on my case, I wish you’d made it. Better luck next time,’ in a delicately swooped hand. Once again, the letters AoS were signed under the message. 

“Look, he even drew a heart by his signature!” Connie pointed out. 

“Oooo, looks like you might have a date to the holiday party this year, Jean,” Eren teased. “First a rose, now a letter. He really is into you.” 

“Shut up, Jaeger,” Jean mumbled half heartedly as he looked closer at the note. He turned it over, but the back of the card was completely blank. “We should hand this over to the lieutenant.”

“Or you could hold onto it,” Historia suggested. Jean arched an eyebrow at her suspiciously. “For intel.”

“He’s not into me.” 

“You keep telling yourself that, kid.” 

**October 21st, 11:46am**

Jean didn’t turn the card over to Mike, instead informing his superior about its existence and requesting to hold onto it for some examination. Mike had agreed, and Jean had been pouring over all of his data ever since. 

Two days of examination later, and his desk had become the space of a madman. The map formed the bottom layer, filled with circles in different colors indicating the places the Ace had been, and potential places he might go in the future. The calling card from the rose and the business card were laid on opposite sides of the desk, surrounded by papers related to their contents: news articles surrounding the heists for each event, research done on the possible meanings of the words used, descriptions of card tricks and famous magicians. Even the rose, now dead, still sat on Jean’s desk as if its corpse still held a key for him. 

Jean sighed, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. Even with all of this new evidence, nothing was making any sense. He was no closer to IDing the Ace than he’d been at the beginning. With a groan, Jean let his hands fall to the desk in front of him, unaware that his still-full coffee mug was right in the way.

“DAMN IT!” Jean yelled, jumping up as coffee spilled across his desk. “No, no, no!” He scrambled to right the mug and grab a jacket off his chair to staunch the spill. He quickly assessed the damage. No major papers had been hit, only Jean’s mouse pad, notebook, and...

The business card from the Ace of Spades. 

Jean felt his heart sink as he picked up the soggy card. The message was running slightly on crumpled paper. The AoS was nothing more than a smudge. Jean sighed, tossing the ruined card back on his desk as he covered his face with his hands. After a good few minutes of stopping himself from yelling out of pure frustration, Jean turned back to his desk. 

And saw writing on the blank back of the business card. 

‘Turelli’a. Tuesday night. The hall of gems. 1:37. Come alone. Don’t be late. - Ever Yours, Ace’ 

“Invisible ink,” Jean breathed, staring wide-eyed at the card. His fingers held it as if the card would dissolve into thin air. “He used invisible ink!” 

“Huh?” Connie asked, standing up so his head appeared above the cubicle wall. 

“He used invisible ink!” Jean exclaimed, showing Connie the business card. Brow wrinkled, Connie leaned forward to get a closer look, taking the card from Jean’s fingers. 

“What did you do to it?” he asked, grimacing at the dampness of the paper as his eyes combed the message again. 

“Spilled coffee on it,” Jean admitted, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “It was an accident, but turned out it was the right move.” 

“Huh.” Connie turned the card over once, twice, before reading the message one more time. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a date then.”

Jean felt his face flush. “Huh?!”

Connie held up the card between to fingers, meeting Jean’s eyes with a steady stare. “Tonight. 1:37am. Turelli’a Gallery. It’s a date.” Jean huffed impatiently as he snatched the card back from Connie’s fingers. “What?”

“Don’t call it a date.”

**October 22nd, 1:34am**

Jean checked his watched. 1:34am. The Ace had was due to arrive in three minutes. Jean sighed heavily as he glanced around the hall of gems again. He’d been sitting on a bench, admiring the displays, for the last hour. Historia and Connie had wanted to come with him, set up a security detail. But Lieutenant Zacharius had said no. The Ace was smart; smart enough to send a calling card directly to their headquarters without getting caught. If he had wanted to get rid of Jean, it would’ve happened by now. This was a chance for Jean to get vital intel into their suspect’s personality, and maybe identity. If Jean could piece it together now, they’d be heroes. 

The pressure was high, and Jean could feel butterflies in his stomach. He had to remind himself often it was the nerves of pulling this case off, not the prospect of seeing the Ace again, that made him feel that way. In fact, the nerves were pretty minimal this time. Having already met the Ace once, seeing him again wasn’t as threatening to Jean as it should’ve been. Especially because of how their last encounter had ended. But instead of scaring him, Jean felt almost emboldened by everything that had happened since he’d been knocked out at Three Walls. He had something to settle with the thief tonight, more personal than just the case. 

When he heard footsteps echoing from the east corridor, Jean stood up. A moment later, the Ace of Spades appeared in the muted light of the gem displays. 

The Ace smiled. “Mr. Detective.”

Jean nodded. “Ace.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d make it.”

“Your message was a bit hard to find.”

“I can’t always send them on a silver ribbon, you know.”

Jean cocked his head to the side. “Did that card have a hidden message too?” 

“Did it?” The Ace shrugged nonchalantly. He then threw Jean a smile that just missed the mark of casual. Jean held his gaze, wariness starting to build behind his confidence. 

“Regardless, let’s talk.” Jean crossed his arms over his chest. “Why are we here tonight?” 

“To do exactly what you said: talk.” The Ace moved towards him. It was all he could do for Jean to stand his ground, staring down the man in black as he stalked towards him with the grace of a ballet dancer. The Ace swept next to Jean and spun down onto the bench. He patted the seat next to him. “Join me.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Please?” The dark eyes that looked up at him were almost begging. Almost. The lights from the display cases were making them sparkle again. 

“No. You wanna talk, we can talk from here.”

The Ace huffed, rolling his radiant eyes. “Fine. Have it your way.” He crossed his legs, holding onto his knee in a perfectly calculated move. “I would like to offer you three questions. Ask me three things and I’ll answer. Like truth or dare.”

Jean arched an eyebrow. “That’s not like any truth or dare I’ve ever played.”

“You catch on fast. There’s of course a price to my answer. For every question you give, I also get to ask you a question.”

“What happens if we refuse to answer?”

The Ace shrugged. “Nothing. But it’s a wasted question for both of us, then.”

“So how is this relevant to either of us? Either one of us could just lie or refuse every question asked.”

“That’s all part of the fun, darling.” 

Jean blinked, almost flinched, at the pet name. The Ace smirked. 

“Fine.” The Ace clapped his hands excitedly. Jean held up a finger. “But I get to ask first.”

The Ace held out his hands. “Ask away.”

Jean narrowed his eyes in thought. His brain was working a mile a minute. This was a golden opportunity to get the information Lieutenant Zacharius and his team were counting on him to get. He had to be careful with his questions, and the answers he got; the chances that the man before him would lie was extremely high. But, if he asked a question that seemed innocent enough, irrelevant to the case, that somehow got him to reveal a crucial clue to his identity, Jean would be in the clear. 

“Can’t think of something clever?” the Ace asked, eyes sparkling. Jean ignored him. “Want me to start us off instead?”

Jean pondered that. “You know what? Sure. Go for it.” The type of questions the Ace asked could be revealing too. 

The man before him cocked his head to the side. “Did you always want to be a detective?”

Jean shook his head. “No. I wanted to go into forensics. But when I started the classes, I found that I was better that putting pieces together than actually analyzing biological materials.”

“Fair enough.” The Ace nodded with a content smile. “Your turn.”

Jean narrowed his eyes. “What do you do during the day that allows you to be up thieving at night?”

“Hmm, good question. I’m a dancer.” Jean’s eyes opened wide. “Shocking, I know. But it was always a passion, and, excuse the slight brag, I had the talent to pursue it. So I did, and so I do.” He pointed a finger at Jean. “My turn. Have you always lived in Trost?”

Jean shook his head. “No. I’m from a small town two hours away.” The Ace nodded, motioned for Jean to ask his next question. The detective took a minute to think. “How do you steal the jewels without breaking any glass?”

“Extensive research into the display systems. They get things in without breaking anything, so as long as I know how they do that, and have the tools to replicate it, then I can do the same.” Jean nodded in response, admittedly impressed. “How often do you go home?”

The speed of that question surprised Jean almost as much as his answer. “Holidays, and rare visits in between. I prefer big cities to small towns. Home just felt too… suffocating,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders a bit, as if a sudden weight had settled there. The Ace nodded, a certain sympathy seeming to fill his gaze as he continued to look Jean in the eye. 

“And your final question?” the thief prompted. 

Jean bit his lip, considering. “Will you tell me how you managed the windows at Riverside?” 

The Ace lolled his head sideways to look at Jean with a lazy smile. “A ladder, some maximum strength climbing rope, a few carabiners, and a conveniently unlocked balcony door. The rest is all flexibility, darling.” 

Jean smirked. “What happened to a magician never revealing secrets?” 

“I never told you what type of flexibility.” The Ace stood, stretched his back, reminding Jean of a cat. He began to move towards the west corridor. “Well, this has been fun, Mr. Detective. But it’s late. We both need our beauty rest. Or at least I do.” He threw a coy glance over his shoulder. “You’re naturally perfect.”

The blush on Jean’s face was muted by the furrow of his brow. “You’re leaving?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Without…” he gestured to the room around them, “taking anything?”

The Ace chuckled, a charming sound. “Oh, sweetheart. I didn’t come here to steal anything tonight. I just wanted to see if you’d come when I called.” 

**October 22nd, 8:04am**

When he arrived at his desk the next morning, sleep deprived from a night of overthinking, Jean found three roses at his desk: one red, one white, and one black. There was no card attached, no way to know who they were from. No way to know except for the red ribbon tying them together. _We’re tied by a red ribbon, honey._ And nobody but Jean would know what that meant. Ace of Spades.

A small smile broke on his lips, heedless of his better judgement. The butterflies in his stomach at the implication of the roses surprised Jean. Surprised him so much he almost threw up from the guilt of them. 

**October 25th, 1:30am**

Based on the Riverside heist and the Turelli'a visit, the team determined that the Ace’s new pattern was one to the right of the original four clock positions. Which lead them to the final location, or at least what they hoped would be their final location: Sapphire Skies jewelry emporium. The store was having a major sale, and were displaying an antique crown belonging to a Spanish queen. The crown was exquisite, filled with priceless gems and jewels. And it was the perfect size to be stolen. 

The team drafted a plan to capture the Ace. Jean would wait inside as bait; it had been proven time and time again that the thief was fond of him, and would let his guard down if only Jean was in the room. Lieutenant Zacharius and Eren would be waiting in the staff room immediately behind the jewelry counter, a little out of earshot, but close enough that if Jean raised his voice, they’d be in the room in an instant. Connie and Historia would be stationed by the front door, a few more officers on the back door, and several stationed around the building. No one would make their presence known until the Ace had entered the building, of course, but this time, it was worth risking him running to have the full perimeter sealed. 

The main room of Sapphire Skies was one of the most grandiose Jean had ever seen. As he walked around, biding his time until the Ace appeared, he admired the wide selection of gems the store boasted for its jewelry. Rare stones mixed in with common ones in all shapes, cuts, and sizes. Mirrors hung from almost every wall, and shone up from the bottoms of the display cases. Jean stared into the glass, making funny faces to keep himself entertained. It didn’t do much to help distract him from the thoughts turning in his brain. 

All Jean had thought about for the last week had been the Ace. Those sparkling eyes and melodious laugh had followed him everywhere. Everything reminded Jean of the man in black, the living shadow with the grace of a ballerina and the strength of a bodybuilder. And what bothered him the most was the way his body reacted to these thoughts. He felt simultaneously calmed and exhilarated by the thought of the Ace. He hadn’t felt that feeling in years, and the last time he had it was for a girl he’d loved in high school… 

“Is this what they call deja vu?”

Jean looked up into the mirror directly in front of him, catching sight of the Ace of Spades for what was likely to be the last time. He smiled. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, spinning delicately on his heel to face the man in black. 

“This is similar to our first meeting.” The Ace extended his arms wide. “Just a few more mirrors.”

“And a more careful detective,” Jean warned, stepping closer to the Ace. 

The other man cocked his head to the side. “You have backup tonight, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Jean stopped walking about a foot from the thief, hands settling on his hips. “I thought that might up the ante for you.”

That earned him a mischievous grin. “And here I was thinking I was the only one enjoying this game.” 

Jean shrugged. “It took me a little while, but you were right. I have enjoyed the challenge.”

The Ace nodded slowly, expression shifting a bit to something Jean couldn’t read. “Have you figured me out yet?” he asked.

“Honestly? No. You are the toughest case I’ve ever had to crack. Which is ridiculous cause we keep meeting like this.” 

The Ace nodded again, still slow, still unreadable. “That must be frustrating for you.”

“Extremely.”

“Catching me would be a huge weight off your shoulders.” He turned to a small statue of a jewel-encrusted tree on a pedestal near him. Nimble gloves fingers began to follow the grooves of the leaves.

Jean watched him, curiosity peaked. “Yes. It would also make all the jewelers and curators in the area breathe easier too.”

“But it would make _you_ happier, yes?”

Jean blinked. Waited a heartbeat. “Yes.”

The Ace kept playing with the statue, avoiding Jean’s eyes. “I can stop anytime you want me to.” His voice was almost a whisper. 

“What?”

“I can stop stealing anytime you want me to.”

“Okay…” Jean looked around. For hidden cameras, booby traps, cats in jumpsuits, he didn’t know. This felt wrong, like a trap. “Can you stop, then?”

The Ace smiled down at the tree statue. “Did you really think there wouldn’t be a price?”

Jean sighed, dread boiling in his gut. “What is it?”

The Ace’s smile grew shy as he whispered. “Go out with me.”

Jean froze. 

“ _WHAT_?!” The yell was a whisper so Eren and the lieutenant wouldn’t hear. His eyes glanced at the door before he closed the distance between himself and the Ace. “Did you just say what I think you said?”

The other man nodded, meeting Jean’s eyes. “Yes. Go out with me, and I’ll put my mask and gloves away forever.” The detective had never seen such sincerity in those brown eyes before. The Ace was serious. Deadly serious. He was ending the game. Willingly ending the game. If Jean agreed to go out with him. Which was maybe the smartest move the Ace had made in weeks. 

“Okay.”

**December 25th, 8:34pm**

Jean opened the door out into the snowy evening with a laugh, his boyfriend Marco holding tightly to his hand. Both men waved a final goodbye to Jean’s parents as they wished them a ‘Merry Christmas.’ As the door closed behind them, the pair walked carefully down the drive to Jean’s car, and piled in, shivering from the cold. 

“I love your parents,” Marco said as Jean turned the key in the ignition. Jean glanced over at him with a huff. “What? I do.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Would I lie to you?”

“Yes!” Jean laughed and Marco chuckled with him. It had been two months since that night in Sapphire Skies. Two months since Jean had tipped the Ace of Spades off on how to get out of the building without getting caught, and the thief had disappeared without taking the crown. Jean had pretended the Ace had never shown, and, true to his word, the thief never returned. In his place appeared Marco Bodt, the handsome company dancer Jean met on a blind date, and they’d been inseparable ever since. No one questioned it at all. Sure, Eren and Connie made a few jokes about the “crush” the Ace had had on Jean, but otherwise, the case ran cold. 

And Jean had never been happier. He had learned that Marco had the most endearing freckles under his mask, and Marco had learned that Jean preferred board games to magic tricks. The dancer had proven to be an excellent person to go to when Jean was given difficult cases. Having been his most challenging case to date, Marco always knew different angles to take to try to figure the criminals out. It was the happiest both had been in a long time. 

“Okay fair, I would lie to you. But not anymore,” Marco said, offering a hand.

Jean intertwined their fingers and squeezed. “Not anymore.” 

The pulled off down the driveway and into the street in a comfortable silence. 

“You know, you’ve never told me why you did it,” Jean said, eyes on the road. He could see Marco’s smile falter a bit out of the corner of his eye, enough that only Jean would notice. 

Marco looked off through the windshield, but his gaze was even further away. “Does it really matter?” he whispered. 

“It does to me.” Jean’s fingers found Marco’s again, despite the other’s quiet protests to focus on driving. “It matters to me why we met, and it matters to me if you’re actually a really twisted person whose only going to hurt me.” Marco winced as if in pain, and Jean felt a twinge of regret. “Please, Marco. You owe me this.” 

Marco closed his eyes, took in a deep breath. The fingers in Jean’s squeezed hard as they rolled to a stop sign. Jean turned to Marco, and the eyes that met his were clear, apologetic but not remorseful. “They were going to close the children’s hospital. I work there a lot; we go and perform for the kids, or hold free classes so that the kids can learn to dance, no matter how sick or injured they are. And one day, someone approached my director about these jobs as a way to raise money to keep the building alive. My director said no, but a few of us went to the guy ourselves and offered the skills he came to us for: flexibility, strength, acrobatics. We even had a guy who was really into computer systems and tech. So he became our patron of sorts.” 

Marco paused shifting a bit in his seat. They were still stopped at the sign; no one was driving either way, and Jean didn’t want to break eye contact now, even though Marco was squirming a bit. He needed to hear it, and he knew the other man needed to say this, but that didn’t make it easier. 

Marco finally found the words to go on. “Everything I took was taken from someone else; it didn’t rightfully belong to the people who had it. And the original owners were offering large rewards for their return, rewards my patron wanted for the hospital. He’d tag the item, we’d steal it, then he’d sell it back to it’s original owner and donate the money.”

“So you were working in a team?” Jean asked. 

“Sort of.” Marco’s nose wrinkled as he tried to explain. “It ended up working so I was the only one going in. Our tech guy found ways to disable all of the cameras, and other people did the intel on entrance and exit routes, opening cases, carry out methods, things like that. It was a team effort, but I was the face of the operation.”

“At least they picked a nice face.” Marco smiled a bit, but it faded fast. Jean grabbed his other hand, and pressed a kiss to both of them. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Do you hate me now?”

Jean shook his head. “No, not at all. Marco, you pulled off one of the most impressive heists of the century to save a children’s hospital. You’re like a modern day Robin Hood without the dorky tights.”

“The Ace’s suit almost was tights…”

“Well shit.” Marco chuckled and Jean smiled. 

“So you really don’t hate me? Even though I’m still a criminal, and it’s totally against your code of conduct to be with me cause you let me escape arrest?”

“I could never hate you. And while I do have some moral qualms about dating an ex-criminal, as long as that’s the only ex- we have to deal with, I’m okay with it.” Marco looked like he wanted to cry, but the smile he gave Jean was breathtaking. “Besides, you were burglarizing for all the right reasons. Even if you were doing it all for personal gain, I don’t think I could ever hate you.”

“Really?” Marco asked. 

“Really.” Jean pulled one hand away so he could intertwine two fingers. “We’re tied by a red ribbon, honey. You and me. Till death do us part.”


End file.
